“Of course not. We are commanded to care for those in need, be they family or stranger.”
“As the Good Samaritan did in the parable told by our Lord.”
She could see where his questions were leading. “Ja, if you have given aid to Carl, that is as it should be.”
A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad you approve. The first time I met Carl, I discovered him sleeping in my barn. It had rained like mad in the night. His clothes were ragged and damp. They hung on his thin frame like a scarecrow’s outfit. Everything he owned in the world he was wearing or had rolled up in a pack he was using as a pillow, except for a skinny puppy that lay beside him.
“Carl immediately got up, apologized for trespassing and said he was leaving. I offered him a meal. He declined, but said he would be grateful if I could spare something for the dog.”
Lizzie’s heart twisted with pity for Carl. To be homeless and alone was no easy thing. “I assume you fed the dog?”
“I told Carl I had a little bacon I could fry up for the pup. I coaxed them both into the house and fried enough for all of us. I put a plate on the floor and that little Duncan gobbled it up before I got my hand out of the way. Bacon is still his favorite food. When I put two plates on the table was when Carl told me he could not eat with me.”
“At least he was honest about it.”
“If you had seen the look in that young man’s eyes, you would know, as I do, that he cares deeply about our faith. He was starving, but he was willing to forgo food in order to keep me from unknowingly breaking the laws of our church.”
“Yet, he never told you why he had been placed in the Bann?”
“Nee, he has not, and I do not ask. I told him I had an empty hut he could use for as long as he wanted. His dog took naturally to working the sheep and so did Carl. He has a tender heart for animals.”
“What you did was a great kindness, Daadi, but Carl no longer requires physical aid.”
“True. The man is neither hungry nor homeless, but his great wound is not yet healed. That’s why I have not turned him away.”
She scowled. “I saw no evidence of an injury.”
Her grandfather shook his head sadly. “Then you have not looked into his eyes as I have done. Carl has a grave wound inside. Something in his past lies heavy on his mind and on his heart. My instincts tell me he will find his way back to God and to our faith when he has had time to heal. Then there will be great rejoicing in heaven and on earth.”
Maybe she came by her daydreaming naturally, after all. “If it happens.”
Her grandfather sighed, rose from his chair and headed toward his bedroom. Before he closed the door, he turned back to her. “It will happen. It’s a shame you won’t be here to see it when it does.”
Chapter Four
He wouldn’t go up to the house today.
Carl stood in the doorway of his one-room hut and stared at the smoke rising from Joe’s chimney a quarter of a mile away. The chimney was all he could see of the house, for the barn sat between it and his abode.
It hadn’t taken Carl long to decide that avoiding Lizzie would be his best course of action. It was clear how uncomfortable his presence made her last night. He didn’t want her to endure more of the same.
Her presence made him uncomfortable, too.
She made him think about all he had lost the right to know. A home, a wife, the simple pleasure of sitting at a table with someone.
No, he wouldn’t go up to the house, but he knew she was there.
Was she making breakfast? If it was half as good as supper had been, it would be delicious. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such light and fluffy biscuits.
Even for another biscuit, he wouldn’t go up the hill.
He could make do with a slice of stale bread and cheese from his own tiny kitchen. He didn’t need biscuits. He didn’t even need coffee.
And he sure didn’t need to see her again.
Lizzie Barkman’s pretty face was etched in his mind like a carving in stone. All he had to do was close his eyes, and he could see her as clearly as if she were standing in front of him.
He hadn’t slept well, but when he dozed, it was her face he saw in his dreams and not the usual faces from his nightmares.
In his dream last night, Lizzie had been smiling at him, beckoning him from a doorway to come inside a warm, snug house. He wanted to go in, but his feet had been frozen to the ground as snow swirled around him. Sometimes, the snow grew so thick it hid her face, but as soon as it cleared a little, she was still there waiting for him—a wonderful, warm vision in a cold, lonely world.
Carl shook his head to dispel the memory. No, he wouldn’t go up to the house today. She wouldn’t beckon him inside, and he shouldn’t go in if she did. He was a forbidden one, an outcast by his own making.
He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself. He had work to do. He glanced toward the sturdy doghouse just outside his doorway. “Come on, Duncan. We have sheep to move today.”
Duncan didn’t appear. Carl leaned down to look inside and saw the doghouse was empty. Puzzled, he glanced around the pasture. His dog was nowhere in sight. Carl cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered the dog’s name. Duncan still didn’t come.
This wasn’t like him. The only time the dog occasionally roamed away from the farm was when school was in session. He liked to play fetch with the kids and visit with the teacher’s pretty female shepherd. It was too early for the children or the teacher to be at school yet, so where was Duncan?
Maybe Joe had taken him and gone out after some of the sheep already. If that was the case, Carl had better see that the fences in the hilltop enclosure around the lambing sheds were in good repair.
He headed up to the barn and found Joe pitching hay down to the horses in the corral. If he hadn’t gone after the sheep, where was the dog? “Joe, have you seen Duncan this morning?”
Joe paused and leaned on his pitchfork handle. “Nee, I have not. He’s not with you?”
Carl shook his head. “He was gone when I got up.”
“He’ll be back. Lizzie should have breakfast ready in a few minutes. Tell her I’ll be in when I’m done here.” Joe resumed his work.
“I’m not hungry. I’m going to fix the fence in the little field at the top of the hill, and then I’ll move the ewes in the south forty up to it. They’ll be easier to move into the barn from there when it’s time to shear them.”
“All right.”
Carl knew if he took two steps to the left, he’d have a good view of the house from around the corner of the barn. “It’ll make it easier to keep an eye on them for any early lambs, too.”
“It will.” Joe kept pitching down forkfuls of hay.
“I don’t expect any premature births from that group. They’ve all had lambs before without any trouble.”
“I know.”
Carl folded his arms tight across his chest and tried to ignore the overpowering urge to look and see if he could catch a glimpse of Lizzie. “We might have to cull a few of them. We’ve got five or six that are getting up there in years.”
Joe stopped his work and leaned on his pitchfork again. “I’m not senile yet. I know my own sheep. I thought you were looking for your dog.”
“I was. I am.”
“Have you checked up at the house?”
“No.” Carl unfolded his arms and slipped his hands into his front pockets.
“That granddaughter of mine was singing this morning. Could be the dog thought it was yowling, and he’s gone to investigate.”
“Is she a poor singer?” Somehow, Carl expected her to have a melodious voice to match her sweet smile.
“How do I know? I’ve been tone-deaf since I was born. It all sounds like yowling to me.�
� Setting his pitchfork aside, Joe vanished into the recesses of the hayloft.
Now that he was unobserved, Carl took those two steps and glanced toward the house. He didn’t see Lizzie, but Duncan sat just outside the screen door, intently watching something inside.
“Duncan. Here, boy!”
The dog glanced his way and went back to staring into the house. He barked once. Annoyed, Carl began walking toward him. “Duncan, get your sorry tail over here. We’ve got work to do.”
The dog rose to his feet, but didn’t leave his place.
Carl approached the house just as the screen door opened a crack. The dog wagged his tail vigorously. Carl saw Lizzie bend down and slip Duncan something to eat.
After deciding he wouldn’t see her at all today, that tiny glimpse of her wasn’t enough. He wanted to look upon her face again. Would she welcome his company or simply tolerate it?
It didn’t matter. He had no business thinking it might.
What had Joe told her about him last night? Carl kept walking in spite of his better judgment telling him to go gather the flock without his dog.
By the time he reached the door, Lizzie had gone back inside, but the smell of frying bacon lingered in the air.
Carl stared down at his dog. “I see she’s discovered your weakness.”
Duncan licked his chops.
Carl grinned. “Ja, I’ve got a strong liking for bacon myself.”
“Come in and have a seat before these eggs get cold. I hope you like them scrambled.” Her cheerful voice drove away the last of his hesitation. She was going to be here for only a few days. Why shouldn’t he enjoy her company and her cooking until she left?
He moved Duncan aside with his knee and pulled open the screen door. The dog followed him in and took his usual place beneath the bench Carl sat on. Duncan knew better than to beg for food, but he would happily snatch up any bits his master slipped to him. It was a morning ritual that had gone on for years.
The house smelled of bacon and fresh-baked bread. Lizzie must have been up for hours. She stood at the stove stirring something. There were two plates piled high with food already on the counter. Carl sat down and waited. “Joe will be in shortly.”
She took her pan from the stove and poured creamy gravy into a serving boat on the counter beside her. “Goot. I ate earlier. I have a load of clothes in the washer I need to hang out. Having a propane-powered washer is so nice. At home, we do all the laundry by hand.” Turning around, her eyes widened with shock. “No! Out, out, out!”
Carl leaped up from his seat. “I’m sorry. I thought it was all right if I ate here.”
“You, yes. The dog, no.”
It took him a second to process what she meant. “But Duncan normally eats with me at breakfast.”
She plunked the gravy boat on the table. “Then he will be thrilled when I’m gone. But until I leave this house, I won’t tolerate a dog in my kitchen at mealtime. Look what his muddy feet have done to my clean floor. Take him outside.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at them both.
So much for basking in the glow of her smile this morning. Carl looked down and saw she was right. Muddy paw prints stood out in sharp contrast to the clean black-and-white squares. The dog must have gone down to the creek before coming to the house.
Duncan sank as flat against the floor as he could get. He knew he was in trouble, but Carl was sure he didn’t understand why.
“Come on, fella. Outside with you.”
Duncan didn’t move.
Carl took hold of his collar and had to pull him out from under the table. His muddy feet left a long smear until Duncan realized he wasn’t welcome. Then he bolted for the door and shot outside as Joe came, in nearly tripping the old gent.
“What’s the matter with him?”
“His feet are muddy,” Carl said. He left the kitchen and went out to the back porch. He returned with a mop and bucket. He started to wipe up the mess.
Already seated at the table, Joe said, “Leave the woman’s work to the woman.”
“It was my dog that made the mess.” Carl met Lizzie’s eyes. They were wide with surprise. Suddenly, she smiled at him. It was worth a week of mopping floors to behold. He leaned on the mop handle and smiled back.
* * *
Lizzie realized Carl’s bold gaze was fixed on her. And why shouldn’t it be? She wasn’t behaving in the least like a modest maiden. She averted her eyes and schooled her features into what she hoped was a prim attitude. It was hard when his presence made her heart race. He was a handsome fellow, but she shouldn’t be staring at him.
“Am I getting breakfast, or should I go out and get the rest of my work done?” Joe snapped.
“I’m sorry, Daadi. I have it right here.” She hurried to bring both plates to the table. Keeping her eyes downcast, she said, “I’ll take the mop out to the porch. I’m going that way. It was kind of you to help.”
“It’s no trouble. I’ll take it out.”
“As you wish.” She scurried ahead of him out the back door and stopped when she had the tub of the wringer washer between them.
He emptied the pail out the back door and placed it with the mop in the corner. When he didn’t go back inside the house, she realized he wanted to say more.
“Is there something else?” Please let it be quick and then please let him go away. He made her nervous, but in a strange edgy way that she didn’t understand.
“I know you hope your grandfather will let you and your sisters live here. I can see you’re trying to please him. I don’t think Joe will change his mind, but there are a few things you should know about him.”
“Such as?”
“He mentioned you were singing this morning.”
So her grandfather had noticed. She brightened. “I was. Did he like it?”
“Joe is tone-deaf. Singing is just noise to him.”
“Oh.” That was a letdown. She hoped a happy attitude and a cheerful hymn would soften his heart.
“And there is something else,” Carl said.
She crossed her arms. “What?”
“Don’t jump to do his bidding. He doesn’t like people who are spineless.”
Indignation flared in her. “Are you saying I’m spineless?”
“No, not at all. It took courage to come here. Just stand your ground and don’t pander to him.”
She relaxed when she realized he was honestly trying to help. “I appreciate your advice. I imagine you think I’m being underhanded by seeking to worm my way into his affections.”
“No, I don’t. Just don’t get your hopes up.”
“I’m afraid hope is all I have at this point. If nothing changes by Tuesday afternoon, I will go home a failure. My sisters are all I have. My sisters and my faith in God. I can’t believe our Lord wants Clara in an unhappy marriage any more than I do.”
“I respect what you’re trying to do, but Joe has lived alone for a long time. He’s old and he’s set in his ways.”
“He has you around every day.”
“I’m sort of like Duncan. I’m useful and tolerated because of that.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know my grandfather nearly as well as you think. He cares deeply about you. He cherishes the hope that you will one day find your way back to God and salvation.”
There was no mistaking the sadness that filled Carl’s eyes. “Then I reckon you aren’t the only one who shouldn’t get their hopes up. God isn’t interested in my salvation.”
He went back into the house and left Lizzie to puzzle over his words. What had happened to make him lose faith in God’s goodness and mercy?
What a strange man Carl King was. He was polite and kind, he liked dogs and children, he was more helpful than most men she knew, and yet he seemed to be
lieve God had abandoned him. Why?
If he had grown up in the Amish faith then surely he must know that God loved all His children. No sin was greater than God’s ability to forgive.
With a tired sigh, she unloaded the washer and carried the wet clothes to the line outside. One by one, she hung the shirts, pants, sheets and pillowcases to dry in the fresh morning air until she had filled both clotheslines. She pulled a brown sock out of the basket and then had to search until she found its mate. They had both been neatly darned at the heels. She suspected it was Carl’s work. She pinned them together on the clothesline. The next pair she put together had holes in both toes. More mending work for her.
She finished hanging up the load, and as she started for the back steps, movement caught her eye out in the pasture. Carl was striding toward the sheep dotting the far hillside. Duncan stayed close to his side until some unheard command sent him bolting toward the sheep in a wide, sweeping move.
As she watched, her grandfather joined them. The dog gathered the scattered flock into a bunch and began moving them toward the pens just beyond the barn. Carl and the dog worked together until the group was safely penned. After Joe swung the gate shut behind the last ewe, Carl knelt. Duncan raced to him and the two enjoyed a brief moment of play before Carl rose to his feet. He and her grandfather headed farther afield with the dog trotting behind them.
As intriguing as Carl was, she couldn’t add him to her list of people to be rescued. First and foremost, she was here to find a home and jobs for herself and her sisters. If there was any chance that her grandfather would change his mind, she had only these few days to prove how valuable she could be and how comfortable a woman in the house could make his life.
She went back to the washing machine and by late afternoon, the pile of clothing had dwindled to a few pieces that she considered rags. The pants that were dry had been folded and laid on her grandfather’s bed. His shirts that were clean and mended hung from the pegs along his bedroom wall. The kitchen and bathroom towels had been sorted and put away. The socks that needed mending could wait until after supper. The jeans and shirt she knew were Carl’s were piled on a chair in the living room where he was sure to see them.
The Shepherd's Bride Page 5
